


Everyday Ordinary Superheroes

by karrenia_rune



Category: X-Factor (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Marvel Universe Big Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8361568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune
Summary: Shatterstar comes up with a scheme to hire out as guides for those seeking tours, adrenaline rushes, sailing excursions out on the blue waters of the Caribbean, or some mixture of all the above. Seeing it as a way to earn a little extra income, Rictor agrees. What they did not expect was to be waylaid by the infamous Barbary Pirate who calls himself Reginald Bartley and his merry band. Bartley, however,  turns out to be none other than the dangerous and violent External Crule who is on the hunt for a legendary powerful treasure that lies just beyond the Bermuda Triangle.





	

Disclaimer: X-Factor and the characters of Julio “Rictor” Richter and Shatterstar, Crule and any others who appear here or are mentioned are the property of Marvel Comics and their respective creators. They are not mine and are only ‘borrowed’ for the purposes of the story with the minor exception of the bruja (Witch) Zennina, Sharkey and his Crule's pirate crew. Written for the 2016 Marvel Big Bang. Much thanks to the mods and my artist: dreammaidenn. The title was inspired by the Smash Mouth song.

The artwork can be found here:  
http://dreammaidenn.livejournal.com/14817.html#t60129

 

“Every Day Ordinary Superheroes” by Karrenia

Only last week Shatterstar had brought up the subject that as much fun as it was just hanging out at home or going out on the town they needed something else that will serve as a diversion when they were not busy with other diversions.

Rictor had suggested any number of things until Shatterstar had come up with the plan of creating a tourism company on the side catering to mostly wind surfers, scuba divers and adrenaline junkies.  
Why Shatterstar wanted to call their new business venture Adventure Inc. Rictor did not know and decided thought to err on the side of caution and not ask.

On the practical side of things their finances were fine, but a little extra income wouldn’t hurt so Rictor had agreed to go along with it. 

He had even gone so far as to head out to the local marina and thy had selecting a boat and bought the necessary gear and equipment to outfit it. Shatterstar argued that since Rictor had selected the ship therefore it would be only logical if he got to name it. Rictor agreed. The boat was thus named Bo Sox, their favorite professional baseball team.

Rictor found no reason to argue about and so the boat got a name and they began to advertise for clients. Their arguments used to come in waves but it did make life interesting.

 

The last time he and Star had argued it was about stupid things, but he vividly recalled the argument, something about whether home-made pizzas made from scratch tasted better on metal sheets versus stoneware.  
Star' had argued that stone was better because he had seen it demonstrated on television; Rictor thought that it made no difference. 

In any case, sometimes Rictor thought that they argued just so that they could have make -up sex afterward. That was good but he forced such wayward thoughts to a back corner of his mind for the moment.

Shatterstar thought that convincing Rictor to leave land where he could utilize his powers more effectively had been difficult, but in the end the other had come around and agreed to the idea; convincing him to take on tourists had been less so; but ultimately worth it. 

The last of the tourists/windsurfers had been off-loaded near a port in Belize where they could take in the local sites and they were paid up front for taking them on tour of the nearer islands. 

When they’d set out from the dock the weather had been warm and sunny and promised to hold fair for several days out; so when the storm had sprung only hours out from Belize was disconcerting to say the least. 

However arguing about it certainly would not make it go away; so the only thing to do was prepare their craft to ride it out and do the best they could.

The hurricane came out of nowhere or so Julio Esteban Richter, also known as Rictor would think later when they weren't busy fighting to keep their ship on a more or less even keel. 

Julio did not mind the fact that he was soaked to the skin and freezing., what he did mind that the hurricane did not behave the way a normal storm at sea should. Wind, rain, freezing cold in its wake yeah, okay, fine, but Madre de Dios!; it was not just his imagination that the storm seemed to have a mind of its own.

He had just about convinced himself of this and was just about to shout his concerns to Shatterstar loud enough to be heard over the gale-force wind; when he felt the deck of their vessel lurch underneath his feet.

"Star!" Rictor called out anxiously. "A little help here, I have don't know what the hell what the proper nautical term is but why need to do something soon or the whole shebang is going to go down into the drink with us along with it."

Shatterstar looked up from where he was crouched in the rigging and loosened one hand to give Rictor an encouraging thumbs-up. "Got it" he yelled back and wriggled around and then flipped over and down to the deck, his short red hair hanging lankly to his chiseled cheek-bones. 

Shatterstar went over to the tiller and tried to use the ropes lining around the deck to tie into place. With that accomplished he studied the raging waters of the sea to which they d acquired and studied the necessary charts in order to estimate if there might be some way that they could get out of this mess. 

Shatterstar felt a bit chagrined that he had gotten them into this mess but he really could not have been expected to take into account freak weather patterns could he? After all the season for hurricanes had passed and the forecast for the next seven to fourteen days had promised to be clear hot, humid and sunny. 

"Any luck?" Rictor called.

"I think I see a way out!"

"Well, good! I would really do not want to effing want to die at sea!"

Shatterstar yelled back: "No, no, today is not a good day to die, at sea or elsewhere. As you any warrior worth his salt,...."

"I know the rest, blah, blah, blah; must die in battle. Just skip to the part where you steer us clear of this mess!" Rictor irritably yelled back.

The sky had begun to clear and not that he was in any position to fully appreciate it just that second, but the temperature seemed to be going up. 

Rictor figured that this meant that either they were riding out the worst of the storm or it was blowing itself out. He heaved a sigh of relief and looked over to Shatterstar to see how he was doing. "I think we're through the worst of it."

No sooner had he uttered these words when a large shadow loomed into view. 

It was a large five-masted vessel with iron-banded sides the kind that Rictor vaguely recalled reading about in the nautical and National Geographic magazines he had used a research material to start their tourism business; this was a galleon the kind that Spanish and other privateers of the high seas once used to transport large quantities of gold and other precious metals and gems. The ship was large and rode low in the water.

"What the hell?" Rictor exclaimed.

"It flies the insignia of a skull and cross-bones. Zas Vid! I can only think that signifies..." Shatterstar began and then trailed off. 

"Nothing good, Star!"

"Hove to!" A loud and self-satisfied voice cried out. "Avast there, where you be bound?" There was definite but controlled undercurrent of wry amusement and threat in the cultured voice.

"Anywhere but here," Rictor muttered under his breath.

"Should we reply?" Shatterstar asked.

"Yeah, but with what? Most of our masts are gone and we don't know anything about proper signaling....Rictor trailed off as he was forced to cough and spit out a large amount of sea-water that had inadvertently swallowed.  
A great deal of water had rolled up and over the sides of their craft.

Shatterstar took it upon himself to enthusiastically pound Rictor on the back; which made him cough and finally splutter out: “Stop! Enough! he shouted when got his breath back.

“Are you all right?” Shattersar asked.

“Yeah, just fine. Thanks.”

“You are welcome,” Shatterstar replied, recognizing the underlying sarcastic undertone but choosing to ignore it.

"Well, well, if mine eyes do not deceive me," the man with the smug voice called out as he made his way to the prow of his command deck. "And here I thought today would be remarkably uneventful."  
The man was tall and thin and lanky but well-muscled and he ostentatiously wore a gold hoop earring in his left ear. 

His clothes were of the finest cut and the coat was open in the front to reveal just a hint of his muscled chest; at his hip was a long-sword with a gold hilt and an infinity symbol.  
"If you don't mind my saying, you appear to be in considerable distress. Might we be of any assistance?"

"Their offer seems genuine," Shatterstar ventured.

"Yeah, it does, and as much as I hate to admit it, the storm did a number on our ship, and it's gonna be absolutely hell trying to fix the damage and limp back to shore."

"You believe that we cannot trust these people?" Shatterstar asked seriously.

"They’re pirates," Rictor replied as if that one word was self-explanatory.

"And that's a bad thing?” Shatterstar asked curiously. He’d seen many a pirate movie and his favorite were the black and white adventures featuring the old time actor/swashbuckler Errol Flynn. 

Rictor smacked himself on the side of the head when he realized that he would need to clarify things. “Pirates, bad guys, waylay other ships, capture their stuff, all around bad company.”

“I see,” Shatterstar mused.

"Yes, no, maybe, oh the hell if I know. It's just this one fact that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end,” Rictor added.

"Which is?" They had known each other so long that Shatterstar had learned to trust Rictor's instincts. 

Not that it had ever given him pause before but despite the fact that they were out numbered at being stared by wary, flinty eyes he felt the need to grab Rictor by the shoulders and begin kneading the tenseness out of the muscles in those coffee-colored shoulders; and then do other then smother him with kisses elsewhere as well. 

He was just about to suit action to thought when Rictor nudged him and said: "It's just; take a good look at this guy..."

Shatterstar did as asked and soon felt a prickling along his nerve endings, but nothing concrete that he could point to exactly but he could sense something strange.

"Something's off." Rictor said.

“Could you be more specific?" Shatterstar inquired.

"Sure,” Rictor agreed, “but I don't know. I just have this feeling like I've seen this guy somewhere before." 

“Then we take his offer, but we watch our back. Agreed?” 

Rictor nodded. "Agreed."

"I'm waiting for an answer, gentlemen!" the pirate leader called out from where he stood flanked on both sides by his crew in the railing of the forward deck of his own vessel.

If he was aware of the hushed conversation taking place between the two newcomers to his ship the captain gave no outward sign of it. 

In point of fact, he did know the kind of effect he had on other people and savored it; but at the moment he wanted them to wonder about him and his motives before they either worked out for themselves his true identity. Or better yet, he was prepared to reveal it to them himself. 

He knew who they were, but it would much better serve his purposes if he left them in the dark for a while longer.

"Okay, we accept."

"Grand!" the older man called out as boarding ropes were thrown across to span the space between the galleon and their small motorized craft and they crossed over.

Once aboard they were given a cabin to themselves, towels and a change of clothing, the captain saying that once they were dried off and decent the two of them could then join the crew for the evening meal in wardroom.

Not that either of them had ever had much in the way of a fashion sense but only Shatterstar could make white cotton shirts with puffy sleeves and deep-cut v-necks look good. Rictor kept tugging on them until Shatterstar tersely told him to stop.

The short leather pants were too short on Shatterstar and fine for Rictor but and the leather duster jackets with cowrie shell buttons that they’d been given had the virtue of being warm and dry. A crewman had brought at another pile of clothing and a bowl of water along with a pair of straight razors for their use as well.

It was better than what they’d been wearing at least.

***  
The state room was paneled and featured a long-low trestle table bolted to the deck large enough to accommodate two dozen people with the captain's high-backed chair at it's head. 

The dark-haired swall0w-complexioned captain joined the crew once the appetizers had been served and took his seat, clapping his hands to indicate that everyone should fall to.

"Welcome aboard the Aeon. I believe that I have failed to observe the proper protocols of a good host. Allow me to rectify that immediately, My name is Captain Reginald Bartley and you are welcome aboard my ship." And you are?"

"Rictor, Julio, actually, my friends call my Ric." And this is, ah, Benjamin, we call him Ben." 

"A pleasure to meet you, Julio and Ben,” the other man replied as he came forward and shook their hands.

Rictor could not have said exactly why he choose to default to his mundane name rather than his code name; or why the more contact that they had with the Aeon's captain that vague feeling of familiarity intensified; but for some reason he knew that they could not afford to over-play their hand. 

Unobtrusively Rictor nudged Shatterstar as much as to say, 'Bartley; really, that has to be a false name.” Shatterstar nodded and offered him a fierce confident grin.

Also, it was not like they had anything to hide; the reverse if anything, and there really was no possible way that a Caribbean pirate who affected the dress and manners of an 18th century sea raver could have known who or what they really were; could he? 

Dinner was a mixed affair of talk of ports the ship had visited, cargo taken, clashes with the authorities, both American and more unfamiliar cuisine.

They had just gotten through the salad and entree course and were about to dig in to the desert of baked Alaska when Reginald stood up and called for everyone's attention.

"You see, it's like this. Every man Jack of my crew is sworn to me and to keep close the secret that I am about to reveal to you two; now that you have drunk wine and broke bread at my table."

"Oh, right,” Rictor griped.

"This had better be good," Shatterstar echoed.

"Oh, it will be. I assure you,” Captain Reginald Bartley promised.

“Hear the Capt’n, out, mates,” a grizzled old sailor muttered.

"What I seek is real and sought by men and women throughout the ages; however, but t is not one for the faint of heart, for the legends and the dangerous just to get there are manifold."

One grizzled old veteran nodded his head somberly at this and took another healthy swig of his wine cup. The older man gazed down into the cup for a heartbeat or two as if it were a well and he had just dropped something valuable down inside of it. When he looked up his gaze was much more alert than it had been a moment earlier. By the by, if you haven’t guessed already, the name’s Sharkey.”

“Go on, Sharkey.”

His left arm sported his name and a hammer-head shark; upon his right was an orca. Down around his shins where his short-legged pants stopped short were a pair of tiger sharks. “If you see, twas where I got bite.” He held out his left arm for inspection. Upon each arm and leg was the tattooed image of a shark, no one the same. 

"Lost several mates only last month to the whirl-pool." Sharkey leaned forward and folded his corded old arms on the wooden surface of the trestle table. 

"Thank you, Sharkey." Reginald continued. "You see, and without further ado, that our meeting is fortuitous, for I think that we can help us each other out in the tribulations ahead."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Rictor exclaimed; his patience, never very durable to begin with; wearing thin.

"I would advise you. Captain Bartley, to answer the question and to speak plainly," Shatterstar added. "My friend is not; well, let us just say that his patience has limits."

Reginald Bartle nodded and allowed a stiff smug smile to pass across his thin lips as if he was aware of this fact already. "Very well. We seek the Bermuda Triangle and a treasure that can be found only on a mysterious island that can be found therein."

"Are you nuts?" Rictor exclaimed. “Madre de Dios! That’s insane and I’ve heard and lived through some insane stuff in my time so I know what I’m talking about.”

"No, no, I don't believe so, “ shaking his head somberly, then added in a bright more enthusiastic tone, “but we will all find out together now; will we not?" replied Bartley evenly. "Until then, please finish your desert course and then my crew will escort you to your quarters."

*****  
Later that evening

"Are we prisoners?" Shatterstar asked as he went through the task of cleaning and polishing his swords, while seated cross-legged on the wooden floor. 

How they managed to stay dry and strapped to Star’s back throughout the storm was anyone’s guest and one that one conundrum that Rictor’s was too tired and sore to hazard a guess at this late hour.

The polishing cloth went swish swish across the metal blades length while Star cleaned and polished. This was a familiar and comforting ritual fort Rictor who had seen this hundreds maybe thousands of times that he could have visualized it in his sleep.

"Yeah, but I don't think he wants to kill us so much as use us in some way. But why? He couldn't possibly know who we are?" Rictor wondered.

"Maybe he saw our advertisement and went out of his way to ambush our vessel?"

Rictor had to concede the point: "Yeah, it's a possibility, but why us? There are number of leisure tourism companies offering extreme sports, treasure-hunting, and what not...."

"He is a pirate and I am given to understand that such people are scoundrels and underhanded by nature."

Rictor sighed and ran a hand through his disheveled brown hair; saying, "Okay, you got me there. Again, I ask you, he found us through the yellow pages, saw that we were to set out to sea..."

"Rictor," Shatterstar said suddenly. "I did not wish to say anything in front of our hosts because to do so might have unduly antagonized them; but I have a vague feeling that there is something that we are missing here."

"Yeah, I do too. Star, tell me something. Do you think we've seen this guy somewhere before?"

"Yes, no, maybe. I am not certain. But I am certain of one thing."

"Which is?" Rictor asked.

"He is dangerous, "Shatterstar confirmed.

“Great, just great,” Rictor sighed as he ran his hands through his disheveled brown hair, his eyes narrowed, “I’m glad that we’ve established that he wants us for something; something no doubt shady and dangerous but why can’t I shake the feeling that we’ve seen him somewhere before?”

“I too, have the feeling of deja vu.”

“Yeah, okay, can you pinpoint where and maybe when, Star?” Rictor asked.

Star completed cleaning his swords and left then piled on a neat stack on a blanket that he pulled from his bunk. He closed his eyes and hummed something that hovered just on the knife edge of dissonance which forced Rictor to wince but waited it out. 

He’d seen Longshot; their former teammate on X-Factor Investigations do something similar when trying to locate an object, person or place which meant that he figured that Shatterstar was either trying to concentrate on jogging his memories, or doing something similar. 

As for the horrendously complicated connections and similarities between Longshot and Shatterstar, well, untangling them would give anyone a migraine headache.

During the interminable months that Julio “Rictor” Richter had recently spent fighting in those bloody and arena gladiator games in Mojoverse, and then discovering secrets about his best friend's past and how fraught with danger Shatterstar’s very beginnings had been; well, it had all been worth it in the end. 

Rictor’s own time in the Mojoverse had taught him more than a thing a two about these seemingly incongruities and now that they had been reunited they had more or less agreed to accept them as a matter of course and that was the end of it. 

Even as these thoughts flashed through Julio Richter’s mind’s eye Shatterstar turned and opened those startling beautiful blue eyes of his.

“Crule, one of the Externals. The last time we fought was when James Proudstar disappeared.”

“It’s not as good as I expected but not as bad. We know him, we’re familiar with his power set and we can deal with a bunch of pirates.”

“Indeed,” Shatterstar calmly replied. “But suppose that this treasure that he is pursuing is an ancient artifact that could enhance his powers?”

Rictor nodded. “Yeah, but think about it, he’s got enough power of his own, and he’s going out of his way to be cordial to us, which come to think of it it is mighty suspicious.”

“Of course which is all the more reason for us to be on guard for anything villainous that Crule might attempt.” 

Shatterstar replied as he got up off the floor of the room and sank down on Rictor’s bed and began to knead the others back in slow, rhythmic circles, alternating kneading and pounding and when Rictor sank down to a supine position, kissing elsewhere as well. 

Shatterstar wanted to do other things as well, lower down but refrained from doing so knowing that as much as he wanted to it would be much more satisfying for waiting and when they were alone together.

“Right, well, Ooh, do that again...before he could add anything else Rictor fell asleep,, with Star’ watching him, admiring the length of those long, fine eyelashes, before he went to sleep, too.

 

++++++

Early the following morning with the Aeon taking a brisk north-westerly headwind and the two of were left alone until they arrived at whatever destination Captain Crule had in mind. Other than the meal that they had shared with the crew on their first day subsequent meals and any other amenities that they required were brought by Sharkey, the first mate or another man.

They were allowed to come up to the quarter deck only if escorted by an armed and watchful second-mate by the name of Monmouth; this worthy individual had had gone deaf in his left ear and because he had been caught standing too close to a cannon explosion.

From the deck both could Julio and Shatterstar could see that the Aeon avoided major shipping lanes, although Rictor being a land-lubber for most of his life could not be sure for he’d own learned what he knew of sailing and sea when he’d been studying up maritime stuff when Shatterstar had proposed their tourism business. 

He had said nothing acrimonious toward Shatterstar about how things had turned out, seeing little bit in doing so; it wasn’t Star’s fault that some crazed former enemy, one-time assassin turned to piracy had dragged them into some mad scheme.

In the first week this state of affairs went on without a hitch, and they had learned that waiting out Crule, who, from all reports, was behaving most unlike his customary and violent lunatic behavior, cagily and skillfully avoided all of their questions about the exact nature of their destination.

Rictor was rapidly losing his patience but managed to stifle it, with Shatterstar’s help. Shatterstar managed to persuade Sharkey to loan him a map of the seas and its surrounding territories and they spent time when they weren’t roaming the ship or making love; studying the map and trying to plot their course.

By the third week there was a marked change in the mood aboard ship, both among the crew and the two ‘honored’ passengers.'

Rictor could not have said exactly what it was aside from the fact the crew went about their tasks with much more thoroughness and fixed attention then they had customarily shown before now. There was also a smell of ozone in the air like the brooding scent before a summer storm.

It was only when the ship titled alarmingly to one side sending anyone who was not already either sitting down or holding onto something bolted to the deck or the wall bulkheads that altered life aboard ship.  
“Ware! We’re entering the Eddies,” the man at the tiller called out in a loud voice.

“What the hell are those?” asked Rictor

“Are you familiar with the Pillars of Hercules?"” the second mate asked.

“Yeah, but I don’t...

“It’s like that except those twas meant to serve as a sea boundary betwixt Europe and Africa, or was it Asia,” he mused, and then added. “You see, and I’ll let you in on a little secret, mates,'” Monmouth confided as he leaned near and whispered conspiratorially, that’s what the Captain taken to call it. Most of the time there’s a whirl-pool that spins so fast and with such centrifugal force that it sucks ships into it.”

“That’s where we’re headed?” Shatterstar asked, fascinated. “And this phenomena is naturally occurring?”

“Yeah, but now it reminds me that some do call it The Devil’s Triangle instead of the other name.”

Shatterstar nodded raptly and encouraged the older man to continue.

“Course some do reckon differently such how large the triangle actually is, depending on which source one consults,” Monmouth concluded idly, scratching at this face stubble. ”Some writers give different boundaries and verticals to the triangle, with the total area varying from 1,300,000 to 3,900,000 km2 (500,000 to 1,510,000 sq mi). Consequently, the determination of which accidents have occurred inside the triangle depends on which writer reports them.”

“That’s an awfully big area to cover,” remarked Shatterstar.

“How long is this ah, turbulence supposed to last?” Not for the first time Rictor fervently wished that his feet were firmly planted back on Terra Firma; he didn’t like the ocean, and he wanted to get out of this mess as quickly as possible.

“Notice that rocking side to side, most times that’s normal sea-swell. It’s like push-pull, we’re should be okay once the Aeon survives the pushing inwards, that’s the Eddies. Then it’s the Rock Island will pull is in. Easy-peasy.”  
“Another adventure?” Shatterstar exclaimed eagerly thumping Julio Richter on the back. “Isn’t this exciting!”

“Madre de Dios!” Julio replied and nodded trying to focus on the positive and ignoring the pinging warning signs his instincts were telling him when he had heard the second mate utter the words ‘should survive the Eddies.”

 

+++++++  
Elsewhere  
The Captain had shed his odd-looking headgear to reveal a mane of greenish hair bound in up in a coarse bit of twine and folded up the sleeves of his leather vest worn over a flouncy white lace affair to show off his muscled forearms and an armored gauntlet.

"I can't believe that you two have forgotten all about me?" said an aggrieved Crule. "Did I not I leave an lasting impression on one or both of you in all the times we fought against one another.”

“Hmm,” Shatterstar murmured, rubbing his chin. He recalled meeting Crule once before as well as his fellow Externals but nothing concrete was coming to mind, therefore, he concluded that they must not have that formidable enemies.

“Would you stop that!” Rictor exclaimed.

“For the record, during our first meeting you used your powers to blast me out of that gargantuan hunk of junk that your old mentor generously referred to as Ship.”

Rictor winced; for he had more or less successfully blocked that part of his past out of his mind. That had been a heady, confusing adventurous time of his life long and he would very much prefer not to think about his old mentor, Cable, thank you very much.  
Something triggered an old memory of battling Crule and several other members of his insanely messed-up clan in Rockefeller Center when they’d both been members of X-Force.

“I can’t believe the two of you have forgotten me already?” Crule said in an aggrieved tone. “Oh, and Julio if you’ll recall on our first meeting you were the one who blasted me out that gleaming hung of junk your old mentor generously called a Ship.”

“Ah, sorry, I think?” Rictor muttered not at all certain what Crule was getting at.

“Oh, Crule said with a flourish of his arm. “I ended up in a full-length body cast, but as I’ve long since forgiven you for that. After all why dwell on the past when we have so much to look forward to in the immediate future?” Crule smiled, a wicked smile that revealed a cavernous hole of sharp gleaming white teeth. 

"No, I cannot say that it did," Shattestar replied tersely. "But we remember you now. You were once a member of the group who called themselves the Externals."

"Well, now," that's much better," Crule replied with a grin and his swagger back in place.

Rictor much calmer now that they knew who they were dealing with could not resist getting in a taunt, “You know, Crule, for a guy who once believed himself to be immortal, weren’t you killed by the black sheep of your family?”

“Oh, that?’ Crule smiled and snapped his fingers. I was dead; then I got better. Strange how that works. Rictor, Shatterstar, as much as I would love to discuss this with you, we have a mission to perform and adventure awaits us all. Come along. Now.”

Rictor considered this, darted a significant questioning glance at his partner, who winked and shrugged as if to say that he didn’t think it worth pursuing and fell into line behind their host and the half dozen pirates that had accompanied them ashore the island. 

***  
The beach that the Aeon had washed up on was strewn with bits of ocean debris, rocks, shells, small eddying tidal pools, crabs, sand dollars, scuttling beetles, and other marine life, twigs and larger bits of spindrift.  
Mixed in with all of this naturally occurring debris were larger man-made materials, cotton from sail, splintered bits of wood that had once been spars from the Aeon and other craft.

Rictor nor Shatterstar cared to inspect these too closely and a good portion of the crew remained behind anchored to a sheltered bay to effect repairs.

The island itself was large and and tropical. As they trekked up from the bench and deeper into the interior Rictor began to perspire so he bound up his brown hair in a bit of twine and let it fall loose down his back.  
The wind shifted direction blowing in the from east and brought a relief from the !!br0ken!!

Crule carried the only map with Sharkey flanking him and Crule had commanded that they walk in the middle of this odd exploratory party with the crew bringing up the rear, all of whom were armed with swords, short stabbing daggers and cudgels tucked into their belts.

They left the beach behind and penetrated deeper into the jungle, when Crule commanded that his half dozen pirates begin to cut their way through.

 

***  
' wonder if this like Monster Island?'Shatterstar wondered as the noise in the jungle subsided to an ominous hiss which should have been their first clue that all was not well. 

Of course when ponderous footsteps could be heard thudding the trees and the underbrush like a locomotive, and the pirates began to draw their weapons, well, they figured that they were prepared for anything.

What emerged from the deeper jungle was a creature that resembled a T-Rex except that it’s arms were longer which gave it more reach. It closed in on them and let out a resounding ear-piercing howl.  
It did not help anyone’s’ nerves that Crule made a comment about it reminded him of a poor unfortunate prisoners being strappoded and having their extremities stretched on the rack. 

“Hey, did you hear any words in that stretch of staccato noise. Twas, my belief that monster is trying to tell us something?” Crule added unfazed by the sidelong angry looks that he was getting from the entire party.

“Don’t be daft, Sir,” remarked Sharkey as he proceeded to pump his supply of ammo from his musket into the creature’s thick scaly hide.

Meanwhile Shatterstar had vaulted onto its back and began to ply his swords, while Rictor shot vibratory blasts at the creature. It took the brunt of the varied attacks in its torso and legs staggering it and causing the lizard-like creature to roar its pain and anger; and it refused to go down. 

One of it’s flailing swipes with its claws raked Shatterstar’s shoulder ripping the white leather and leaving two parallel gashes in his skin. 

Crule’s powers gauntlet-covered claws which he used to ensnare the lizard’s legs and bring it down with a resounding thud to the jungle floor. 

It raised its head gazing around at the entire group clustered in the glade and then its eyes rolled back to show the whites and it was motionless.

“Let’s go,” Crule muttered.

“Perhaps we should remain here to ascertain that the creature is dead,” Shatterstar suggested.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Crule said scratching his metal-guaranteed forearms.

“What he means to say, friend; that if we did stick around that we risk being attacked by something worse,” Sharkey began and then darted a few paces closer and inspected the inert bulk, whistling,”or by this thing’s mate.”

“Oh, all right,” Rictor said,” adding, “when you put it that way.”

***  
They left that clearing behind and filed out in the grove wondering what else the island had in store for them.

The T-Rex had a lot of company as they were soon to discover. Rictor thought that Shatterstar had been right on target when he’d speculated that this might be like Monster Island or even like the Savage Land; the latter was a known quantity but one he would have preferred not to think about, however they were much too far north for and in the wrong hemisphere.

Something resembling a giant Venus flytrap with a cavernous open-mouthed apertureed their path at one point and then took a wide sweep around these and also around a massive spider web whose owner was absent at the time.

They had to rig up harnesses with ropes and lashed them around their waists in order to scale a brownish-black escarpment that effectively blocked progress forward.  
Casting about for another route, they at last decided that their own only practical option was to scale it. 

As he was going up behind Shatterstar and bringing up rear guard Rictor chanced to glance down to see hard-shelled black beetles scuttle out of various tiny holes in the pitted surface of the escarpment. He kicked them out of the way and grimaced. “Que feo!” he muttered under his breath.

Shatterstar looked down at the black-shelled insects but made no comment; merely shrugged and continued to climb.  
If they wanted to get out of this they had keep going.

***  
By this time they were all sweating profusely with the annoying exception of Shatterstar, fully out of patience with each other, and wondering if there really was an actual treasure to be found on this god-forsaken island.  
Upon reaching the summit they undid the ropes coiled them back up and stowed everything back into their backpacks. Crule declared a halt for water and a meal and cast about for a likely looking camp site.

***  
After a too late turn-in and a too early rising Rictor’s was not exactly feeling rested and the corners of his felt like he’d been buried in sand and the inside of his mouth tasted awful. He’d never been one for getting up with the sun and he darted surly glances at Shatterstar who appeared refreshed and raring to go. 

Rictor allowed himself a few minutes simmering and then realized that there really was nothing he could do about it and shoved his discomfort and irritability aside.

Hours later they emerged from a thick undergrowth and passed underneath a stone arch that he had at first mistaken for a gigantic trees that one tall and the other lying parallel like a cross-beam to the arch. He pointed this out to Shatterstar who nodded to indicate that they had noticed this, too. “We are getting close. I can feel it.”

“Yeah,” Rictor whispered as he scratched at his arm hair, “now that you mention it.... Yeah, me too, but I don’t like it."

They continued on their way and eventually emerged into a secluded valley and the terrain which up until now had pretty much flat began to slope gradually downward.

The valley was not as empty as they had believed because nestled in tiny pockets were white stone buildings some with low flat roofs, some sloped at varying angles. As they got closer Shatterstar pointed out that he had seen something similar when he’d been watching television on the History Channel. 

In addition to the white stone from which the buildings had been constructed all of them sported columns of varying heights.

A seldom seen grimace of discomfort passed across Shatterstar’s face, eliciting a frown of concern from his partner. “Something is definitely wrong here. Just what the something might be is anyone’s guess."

Crule had legged out ahead of the group and headed in the direction a white building surrounded in a loose semi-circle of white domed and columned buildings. “That’s the central temple!” That’s were the treasure will be. Turning his head he urged to Rictor and Shatterstar, “Come on, boys!" 

The pirates, who until now had just been trudging along, responsible for hauling supplies, distributing food during camp and following orders, now hesitated. One scrawny young fellow even halted in mid-stride took one look at the face of his boss, then another at their strange surroundings and with a sheepish grin dropped his back-pack and ran full tilt back towards the jungle.

Sharkey sighed. “For what it’s worth, boys, I don’t blame that young man one bit. But we’ve got our orders. We stay here, you two, go one ahead, then. This is as far as we go."

Shatterstar clapped the old pirate on the back. “Understood.” Come on, Julio.”

When Crule slammed into an invisible force-field and was thrown back back the impact his pride and his fundamental bruised; he got up and rubbing his tail-bone. “Perhaps a more roundabout approach is required.”

“You think?” Rictor replied sarcastically.

“Just hit with one your vibratory waves,” Shatterstar said.

“Yeah, I suppose,” Rictor muttered as he brought up his powers but did not yet release them.

A woman emerged at the threshold of the temple, if that’s what it really was. She wore a loose-fitting dress with a shawl thrown over her exposed shoulders. Her long dark hair was streaked with gray and she wore a silver pin with an unfamiliar symbol etched into to it. 

Shatterstar who had best eye-sight of most everyone said that he could just make out the form of intertwined snakes.

“That won’t be necessary,” the woman said softly but forcefully enough to stop everyone in their tracks.

“Says, You, Lady,” Crule replied indignantly, “I’ve come a long way and spent a lot of my precious time tracking this treasure down and now that I’ve found this blasted island; I’m not about to leave empty-handed!”

”That is an unfortunate attitude, but one that you will simply have to become accustomed to it,” the woman replied.

“I don’t know who you are, but if those were your critters out there who attacked us..” Crule began, “I don’t particularly care for the being attacked part, but I must say, Madame” he said and then abruptly broke into a stately formal bow. “I must say I do admire your handi-work.”

“Well, then, that’s more like it,” the woman replied in a throaty murmur.

“Will you let us pass?” Crule asked.

Rictor began to curse.

Zenina and Crule ignored him. 

“The creatures are merely responding to their environment and their instincts because this island has been here a very long time. However, but If am correct about your groins, Sir, you know what ‘that’ is like. I am Zenina.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Crule said as he strode closer to the woman.

”And I, yours,” Zenina replied. “Which brings us back to the nature of your quest.”

“Tell me more,” Crule encouraged an eager and more than a little disconcerting light that had come into his eyes.

“The treasure is one that I have the honor to be the guardian of. But be warned, as you have discovered travelers who have come here seeking it have met with a perilous end.”

“No me digas, bruja!” Rictor yelled in Spanish.

For good measure Shatterstar added,'Zas Vid’ and something else in Cadre that only he and Rictor understood.

"Will you allow into the inner sanctum?” Crule asked.

Zenina appeared to hesitate while she considered the request. “Very well,” she said finally.

Inside the building the walls were made of the same smooth white stone and carved at about shoulder height on Crule and Shatterstar who were much taller than Rictor were cryptic looking glyphs that felt curiously delicate and smooth to the touch whenever anyone brushed up against them or touched them. Zenina did not offer an explanation as to their significance and no one felt inclined to inquire as to their meaning.

If it had not been for these strange surroundings and equally imperturbable ‘host’ Shatterstar might have been willing to press the matter or at the very last drawn Julio’s attention to these mysterious glyphs; but he chose not to do so. 

For his part, Shatterstar noticed that Crule appeared more than content to follow Zenina’s lead, and was even whistling off-key under his breath.

The priestess/witch or whatever she wore wore her long black hair hanging down to the middle of her back swayed in time with her movements and was held in place with a red leather thong. 

As he attempted to inspect this symbol without appearing overly obtrusive Shatterstar realized that the glyph etched into the leather was almost exactly the same as the glyph he had seen burnt into the leathery scaly hide of the Saurian-like monster that they had battled in the jungle.

They walked down several straight corridors turned a corner at a right angle and then through partition that rotated on unseen hinges at a sotto voce command from Zenina.

**  
The center room that waited at the end of the passage illuminated only fitfully by lit torches was clean and bare of any ornate decorations. Here the glyphs that had been on the lizard and on the walls when they had entered were smaller and more evenly spaced; alternating between horizontal and vertical; nor were they of any one type. 

If they hadn’t already been highly suspicious of both Crule and Zenina this would have tipped the scale.

“So what?” Crule demanded, perhaps more harshly and anxiously than he would have otherwise. He had the most uncomfortable sensation that he was being played for a fool; coupled with the almost equally unbearable sensation that some time or some where in his long existence as an External that he and this Zenina had met once before this.

Zenina nodded and turned to regard her ‘visitors’ with a small enigmatic smile. “Wait,” was all she said and adopting a formal stylized pose with her feet firmly planted on the stone floor and the heels of her hands pressed to her brow, she began to sing out the glyphs on the wall causing them to glow green then yellow, then blue and finally red.

When she had completed the incantation and stone tablet appeared in the center of the room. Perhaps it had been there all along and had just been hidden from their sight by Zenina’s magic. Perhaps it had had to be summoned from whatever ethereal alternate plane of reality. 

Sealed inside a glass gilt-edged case where three ancient gold coins.

“Three golden coins?” Rictor asked incredulously.

“Not just any gold coins. These coins have a history, some might even claim that they carry as much value in their power as they do in their ability instill power and prestige in their possessors, for these are the Coins of Zakynthos.”

“I thought as much. I wasn’t around at the time these bad boys were minted but near as I can tell they date back to the 3rd century B.C. Did you that possessing them gave Alexander the Great to conquer Asia".

“Yes, he wore them in every battle he ever waged and won until his death, and eventually the coins went on to fall into the hands of another legendary conqueror," Zenina picked up the tale.

“Wait, wait, you don’t mean to tell us that some magical coins led to all these victories; one would tend think that it would take more than a handful of magical coins,” Shatterstar replied. “Strategy and skill might have had something to do with it, as well.”

“Yes, true, but the coins magic is that can grant their holder the drive, power, and sheer will even when all else is of no avail,” Zenina replied.

“I must have them!” Crule insisted. “You will give them to me at once!”

“As valuable and rare as they are I feel it is my duty to inform you that possessing them is, shall we say, problematic. Yes, they are powerful and it will enhance whatever natural abilities you might have...” she trailed off.

“How problematic?” Shatterstar demanded with a dangerous glint coming into his eyes, especially the one with the scar over it. 

“Many have died attempting to obtain them. Direct skin contact exposes the holder to highly dangerous levels of arsenic and mercury which affects the nervous system. This will in turn cause the holder to feel an overwhelming rush of power and control and almost obsessive need to have the coins in one’s possession at all times. Would you care for a historical example? Perhaps a cool beverage?”

“No, I mean, no to both,” Shatterstar replied.

“Very well then, as powerful and as valuable as they are, I must worn you, that there is a down side.”

Rictor groaned and then exclaimed. “Madre de Dios! Was that supposed to be the up side?”

“Prolonged exposure to the Coins could have a devastating effect on the holder,” Zenina added.

“I’m willing to risk that,” Crule interrupted, undeterred by the implicit warnings from Zenina and the presence of the two mutants. 

“Great, all I’m getting out of this is that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely, Gee, I don’t think we’re interested anymore. Rictor said, “If you don’t mind, I think we’ll be leaving now.”  
“I do not mind,” Zenina replied evenly. “As for him......"

Crule pushed her aside and made a grab for the coins.

Exchanging a significant glance Rictor as they made the implicit decision that allowing Crule to walk away with these ancient coins would be a very bad idea. Rictor shoved Crule away while Shatterstar closed the distance and drew his swords and pinned Crule to one of the walls. 

Crule struggled and pushed against the pressure on his throat. 

“Let me go, Damn You! This is my chance of a lifetime. Don’t you understand?”

“I believe that I understand all too well,” replied Shatterstar evenly.

Before anyone could say anything else Zenina took it upon herself to remove the interlopers from her inner sanctum.  
******  
The next thing they knew all three men were sprawled on the ground outside the of the temple complex.

“I’m going back in there, and don’t try to stop me,” Crule exclaimed, as he got up.

“Don’t even think about it,” Rictor warned bringing up his own vibratory energy but did not immediately release it.

“You gotta to wonder if there might have been something between that bruja and Crule, given that he’s an External and all.”

Shatterstar nodded, and then said. “I noticed that as well.”

Just as Rictor was mulling this over something long low-to the ground but with more limbs than anyone could count emerged from the temple interior and made a bee-line for Shatterstar.

“Oh hell,” Crule muttered.

“You had to go and jinx it,” Rictor griped.

“That is hardly my fault!” Crule said defensively.

Shatterstar took up a defensive stance and drew both of his swords but before he could employ them he was caught up in one of the monster’s flailing limbs and squeezed as if in a vise. Rictor cried out and let loose with a focused energy blast.

“Not for nothing, Mr. Richter, but this is where we part company!” Crule cried. “I must tell you, it’s been highly diverting and although I had wished we had left on better terms I must say I well disposed.." He did not finish the remark and instead legged out for the deeper jungle.

“Wait!” Rictor cried. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“Anywhere but here, old chap,” Crule replied and with that he beat a hasty retreat along with his men who had waited at a campsite at the edge of the clearing.

“Yelling at them will serve no purpose, Julio,” Shatterstar remarked mildly. Although,” and here he cocked his hide to one side as if mulling things over. "Should we survive this, get home and encounter that pirate again I shall not hesitate to dangle him from the highest bridge trestle by his own string purple hair."

Rictor snorted and nodded. He turned around and sent a concentrated blast of his own greenish vibratory energies to send a precise shock wave at the departing backs of the Crule and his pirates; the sunlight giving a mingled gold-green hue to his energy waves. 

The force of the blast made the ground rock and shift like a ship on the high sea during a storm; knocking pirates onto their arses and trees and other shrubbery down.

Rictor swore to himself in Spanish and concentrated on finding a way to help his friend, but before he could do that the creature flung Shatterstar away with a massive heave of its multiple limbs.

Casting about the creature regarded Rictor for a moment and then pivoted and waddled back into the temple. “What the hell?”

‘Well, it was gone and good riddance so now what?’ Rictor thought.

Rictor turned around and looked for Shatterstar.

He found his friend inside a deep pit lined with wicked-looking picks with some sticky dripping from their tips; most likely some kind of local poison. 

Shatterstar’s bloodied white leather from was wedged in there too tightly to allow for much freedom of movement. “Hang on, Star!” Rictor encouraged.

“I shall do so.”

Turning to Sharkey, Rictor asked: “Help me pull him out.”

Sharkey had the grace to look apologetic. “Sorry, mate, no can do.” 

While Rictor was busy fuming and was distracted by considering his other options, he then realized that Crule and his pirates were halfway down the only usable path that lead out of the jungle and back to the beach.

On Crule’s orders a pair of them was in the midst of setting off some kind of explosive device that would effectively block passage for anyone else. The intent was clear even from a distance: Crule intended to strand them on this godforsaken desert island.

“Hey, You, effing two-timing, cowardly bastards!"Rictor yelled as loudly as he could over the raucous noises of colorful tropical birds cawing on tree branches overhead, meanwhile the wind soughed through the branches mingled with Crule’s maniacal laughter as he pivoted on a neatly turned-out leather boot heel. 

He called out to them: “Don’t fret lads! You two are very resourceful lads. I am fully confident that you will manage to find a way to escape this island before you are eaten by the native fauna or become slave-boys to the island’s only resident ancient priestess!”

Rictor sank down to his haunches and ran his hands through his brown hair. “I really, really do not like that guy.”

“Ditto,” Shatterstar replied.

“Do you still have the rope?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s my backpack. Hang on, and I’ll get you out.”

Suiting action to thought Rictor shrugged out of his backpack, undid the zipper and began to rummage around through their supplies looking for the rope. Once he had it he uncoiled and found something to anchor it into place and then eyed how much to pay out to where Shatterstar was wedged inside the pit.

Rictor did not care at all for the fact that tips of the spikes were glossy from some kind of sticky ooze, but he ignored that for the moment. Shatterstar grabbed the far end of the rope as Rictor carefully pulled on the other and then scrambled up and over the edge and to safety.

Shatterstar rolled over to onto his back and then tried to stand up. Rictor realized that his partner’s swords had become lodged into a thick tangle of ferns and went to retrieve them and when he came back and gave them back to their owner Shatterstar was rocking back and forth on his heels with a faraway look in his eyes.

“You okay?”

“No, yes, I...”

“I think you’ve been poisoned.”

“I agree, but do not worry, I should be immune to any toxins...” Shatterstar remarked.

With that his blue eyes glazed over and he blacked out.

Rictor caught him before his partner hit the ground and picked him up fireman style, thankful for the fact that even though Shatterstar was taller, and physically much more muscular than him what with the unique physiology of a mojoworlder; he had hollow bones which made him much easier to carry than would otherwise be the case.

“I just hope you’re right about that natural immunity to poison,” Rictor muttered under his breath.  
***  
Night had fallen and Rictor had carried his friend away from the clearing and back to where he recalled they had camped on the way in. It was too far to make it back to the beach in one go and it hadn’t helped that he’d had to use the machete in his pack and his powers to clear a path that had been blocked by Crule’s pirates.

Once he was through Rictor decided to try and put as much distance between them and the temple site as he could while daylight held.

He found the a campsite that was relatively dry and sheltered. It was open on in the direction they had come from and to the east. He lay Shatterstar down and cast about the area in order to get his bearings. His friend was still semi-conscious but drifting in an out and muttering words in mingled English, Cadre and Spanish that were too faint for Rictor to make out clearly.

As Julio was putting the finishing touches on a fire and had begun to clean and dress Shatterstar’s cuts. He had found a flask of whiskey that he had not remembered was in Shatterstar’s pack and used it sterilize the wounds and poured a finger-full onto the wounds. 

Rictor then stripped part of a clean shirt from Shatterstar’s pack and used them as improvised bandages.

He was just tying off the last one when his attention was caught by Shatterstar placing a hand on his arm. His color was much improved and those beautiful blue eyes of his were clear and alert. “Tell me something, Julio. Were you not in any way tempted to take those coins for yourself?”

Julio paused for a moment and thought it over. “Nah,” he replied. “You?” I mean, who wants to conquer the world?”

“I believe the phrase is everybody wants to rule the world. But you are correct, why would I desire that when we have each other.”

Julio “Rictor” Richter did reply at once because of the welter of emotions that blocked up his vocal cords for a moment and the flush that came over his light brown skin. Then he replied, “Damn, when you’re right, you’re right.”

“Indeed,” Shatterstar smiled. Then he asked: “Do you think I should have your initials carved into my shoulder?” 

“What?” said Rictor who had not really been paying attention.

“I asked about getting a tattoo.”

“Damnit, Star! You’ve already have a natural one over your eye...”

“Hmm, now that you mention it; you have a point.”

“Very well then, I think we should go home. If you would stand still, Julio. Do stop fidgeting around; it makes it difficult to concentrate on you as my anchor in order utilize my teleportation powers. There, much better.” 

“Are you sure you’re up to it?” asked Rictor in concern. “Maybe we should wait...” 

“I will be fine.”

So saying Shatterstar drew his double-bladed swords from their arm-braces and then crossed them so that the hilts formed the shape of a truncated X and within a heart beat and flash of searing light that left both of them disappeared from the humid jungles of Bimin Rock Island.

“I would wager that Crule did not count on us having a way off the island that did not involve his ship,” Shatterstar said with wry amusement.

“Yeah, he would have had no way of knowing that,” Rictor agreed.

Before they vanished Shatterstar whispered. “That was fun, Julio, but I would much rather you talk me out of going a-pirating again.”

“Si, Si, let’s get while the getting’s good.”  
*****

Conclusion  
Getting back home  
In a flash of light and a boom they were teleported back to the lanai of their home on the island just off shore of the Mexican mainland. 

Teleporting in such a way tended to drain Shatterstar’s mutant powers and the injuries he had sustained when Crule and his pirates had left them to tender mercies of the resident witch-woman and her menagerie of semi-tamed monsters set to guard the ancient ruins.

Fighting monsters not withstanding; Shatterstar could be incredibly stubborn and reluctant to admit when he had been injured so Rictor continue to press a little bit more, and come at his partner’s defenses from another angle. 

Rictor stopped thinking and carried Shatterstar into the house, to the bedroom and plunked his partner down on their king size bed; then went to the bathroom where they kept the emergency first aid kit. Coming back to the bedroom where he began to exchange the dirty bandages for fresh clean ones and when he could do no more; besides using a wet cloth to moisten that noble brow and stand vigil. Several hours late but they had felt like an eternity to Julio Richter; Shatterstar’s eyes opened.

“What did I miss?”  
“You were injured and you overdid it,” Rictor said gruffly but choked with relief and joy.

“I might have done,” Shatterstar replied. “You were correct to voice your concern. He reached out and gently stroke his longer tapered fingers up and down Rictor’s arm and then looked up and simply said,” Te amo, Julio. Gracias.”

Because Shatterstar only referred to him by his given name during moments of intimacy Rictor felt his own throat constrict with mingled emotions none of which he was precisely prepared to sort out; then leaned forward and began to plant kisses anywhere within reach and some less so. “De Nada. I’m just glad to be home.”

“I’m hungry. Can we make pizzas on stoneware later?”

“Sure, whatever you want,” Rictor replied. “Ya esta bien?”

“Si, Si,” Shatterstar replied with a wicked grin coming to his face and he grabbed Rictor and pulled him close and somehow after that the two of them ended on the bed, clothes scattered all over; which meant that they did not get around to doing much of anything else until the sun was well up in the sky the following morning.


End file.
